


Battle Weary

by I_Write_Tragedies_Not_Sins



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Mild Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Romantic Friendship, mentions of past major character deaths, ptsd effects
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-20 16:50:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13150881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Write_Tragedies_Not_Sins/pseuds/I_Write_Tragedies_Not_Sins
Summary: After the war is over, Shepard has a hard time coping with the trauma. But Wrex is there, still by her side, a small comfort in her life.





	Battle Weary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xenowriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenowriter/gifts).



> I've never written for this pairing before, so I hope you like it~

 

It seems like two lifetimes ago that Shepard had uncovered Saren's plot. The first time she had seen a reaper, huge and transparent as it spoke inside her mind and outloud all at once. She had fumbled in her ignorance and found something she sometimes wish she hadn't. Nightmares of the damn things still haunt her every night. She barely eats or sleeps, even now that the war's over. Especially now that the war's over.

She can hear that god-awful sound still echoing in her ears. The burning smell of scorched flesh still assaults her, as if the scent lingers on her body, a stench she can't wash off no matter how often she scrubs herself raw.

She looks down at her datapad, emails blurring as she tries to focus on the words.

_Hey Shepard,_

_Shooting match? For old time's sake. And you need to get out of the house._

_Garrus Vakarian._

Her finger hovers over the reply for a moment, the sound of gunfire still loud and echoing in her mind, before she hits delete. She takes a long pull from the bottle of whiskey, telling herself it was to numb the pain in her body and not the pain in her chest.  _You're a terrible liar, Shepard._  Kasumi's voice still haunts her memory. Another bit of blood on her hands, staining her in ways unseen.

_Hey_

_What the fuck, Shepard? Haven't heard from you in months. I have the next week off from that school shit. We're going out. Dancing._

_Jack_

A small smile almost touches her lips, before disappearing again. She remembers dancing. Alone. In the bar on the Citadel after Virmire. She quit dancing after that, barely able to stand the sound of club music, its pulsating rhythm reminding her of what she lost. Of what she sacrificed. It wasn't fair. She should never have made that choice. She didn't have the right to decide who would live or die. 

So many faces flash before her mind. She shuts her eyes tight, trying to shut them out. Anything to block out the guilt. She throws the datapad against the wall, screaming as it smashes into pieces. Why did they have to die? Why did she let them?

Shepard forces herself to take slow, deep breaths, eyes still wide and heart still pounding like a submachine gun. 

Her omnitool beeps.  _Wrex._ Her movements robotic, she reads the message.  _Come to Turchanka. We need to talk._ Her senses awaken at the command. Was there trouble? She looks around at her tiny, dark lit apartment. It reeks of alcohol. A quick sniff tells her so does she. A shower, then, before heading to Tuchanka. 

 

~*~*~

 

Despite herself, she can feel her lips splitting into a grin as she catches sight of the grizzled war veteran. She can still remember watching Ash stare down the barrel of her gun at the krogan, eyes narrowed as Wrex ranted and raved. The first life she had saved was his. Some days, it feels like the only one. Maybe it is. It's hard to tell anymore, with so much death still fresh in her mind. 

Being back on Tuchanka stings like hell, even now, though.  _Would have liked to run test on the _seashells.__ His voice echoes in her mind. Gilbert And Sullivan will never sound the same.

"Shepard," he says, clasping her hard on the back. 

She grins wider, the first smile since before the war truly broke out, and nods her head, pushing the memories further back. "Wrex," she replies, good memories outshining the darker ones for a brief moment. "So, what did you need?" She asks, expression sobering as she remembers his message.

Wrex grunts, shaking his head. "I don't need anything. Heard from the old crew you haven't left your place on the Citadel in a long time. Figured this was the best way to get you out."

She frowns, looking up at him through her red bangs. "You tricked me," she accuses, caught between affection and annoyance. Finally, she settles on affection, heart too raw for staying angry with someone she cares about. One of the few left. 

_Who's like us?_

_Damn few._

And they're all dead.

But Wrex isn't. 

He shrugs, a glint in his eye. "Yeah," Wrex admits, sounding completely unashamed. Like always. The familiarity of it is nice, puts her at ease in a way she didn't know she needed. "You humans celebrate something around this time of year, right? Chrizmiz, or something. Got something set up. Let's go."

Shepard blinks rapidly at the retreating krogan's back as she tries to decide between laughing at Wrex's "chrizmiz" or surprise that he had actually set up something. She chokes back a laugh at the image of Wrex in a santa hat and beard, bright red suit and a bag full of grenades for all the good little krogan warriors.

~*~*~

 

Sand blasts her face as she stares, open mouth, at Wrex. "Pyjak hunting. You want to go pyjak hunting for Christmas?" she asks, dumbfounded.

Wrex grins, handing her a small pistol. "Yeah. Good way to relieve tension." He laughs as he starts firing at the tiny pests. Shepard hesitates only a moment before joining in, her own laughter echoing the krogan battlemaster's. 

Her aim is off, probably because her hands still shake, and most of her shots go wide. But it doesn't matter. Nobody's life is on the line. Nothing is at stake. It's just mindless fun as she watches Wrex out of the corner of her eye, a smile curving her lips as he lets out of roar everytime he gets a pyjak. Which is everytime he fires. 

It feels good to hold a gun with nothing going wrong, for once.

 

~*~*~

 

Wrex hands her a bottle, and Shepard's surprised it doesn't contain alcohol. She drinks the cool water gratefully, throat burning with thirst. Wrex bumps his shoulder against hers. "Shepard," he says.

"Wrex," she replies, happy that somethings really didn't change. 

"Let's do this again."

"Yeah." She pauses, lost in thought for a moment. "Only next time, let's hunt a thresher maw."

He laughs, nodding his great, horned head. "Yeah. Like the way you think, Shepard."


End file.
